When people no longer need you, a strange thing happens: life becomes easier and sometimes even emptier. Your children will solve their own problems. Your colleagues rely less on you because technology can do more of the things you once did. No one calls because the car won’t start or the sink is leaking. Modern life eliminates countless small burdens. It also removes countless reasons for others to need us.
For some men, there’s a psychological cost. We call it loneliness, but loneliness isn’t always the problem. Some men have spouses, children, friends and colleagues. They are not alone. They don’t think it’s necessary.
Think about Tom: He is married, employed, and in regular contact with his family. When I asked who he would call if he had a problem, he immediately named three people. Then I asked who relied on him. He fell silent.
His sons are all grown up. At work, software largely replaces his professional knowledge. At home, his wife takes care of most of the small decisions. There was nothing particularly wrong with his marriage or his job. Tom describes his life as unusually ordinary. He is not alone. He didn’t think it was necessary.
The numbers on male friendships are disturbing. 2021 poll The Center for American Life Survey found that since 1990, the share of men with six or more close friends has dropped by about half, while the share reporting no close friends has increased fivefold. The usual advice is predictable: Men need more friends. They should open up, be vulnerable, and talk better about their feelings. Sometimes that’s just what they need.
But in trying to teach men to talk more about their feelings, therapy culture may be overlooking some basic questions about how many men enter into relationships. They don’t always connect by talking about themselves. They build connections by doing things for others.
We asked men if they had someone to talk to, if they felt understood, if they felt seen and supported. These things are important. But these questions are about what relationships do for us. We rarely ask the question: Who needs what you have?
Many men get into relationships without asking this question. They play basketball with other people, do something together, or coach a team. We sometimes look at relationships like this and conclude that men are not very good at emotional intimacy. But maybe our definition of intimacy is too narrow. For many men, it involves shared tasks, favors, and expectations of your companionship. Disclosure is not the only form of intimacy. Sometimes intimacy is trustworthy.
Psychologists have long understood that there is more to adulthood than just being loved. Erik Erikson calls one of its core tasks “generativity”: the need to contribute to the lives of future generations. We seem to have retained the language of connection but forgotten the importance of usefulness.
Modern life is good at removing the need for this usefulness. We can work, eat, travel, and solve family problems virtually without relying on anyone we know. We view dependence as something adults should get rid of: take care of themselves. Don’t burden your friends. Don’t disturb the neighbors.
However, some of the strongest relationships are built through inconvenience. A friend needs a ride. Your brother needs help moving the couch. Someone has to coach the team. These moments may not seem particularly meaningful, but over time they tell us something important: Your presence matters to other people.
I’m not saying that men should measure their worth by how much they produce or provide. Being wanted can be much simpler than that. It’s not about achievement. It’s about having a place in someone else’s life.
This is where some of our advice about loneliness misses the mark. We tell people to find connections, join groups or call old friends. This is sensible. But this language can get weirdly consumerist: seek out people who make you feel connected. Find a community that meets your needs. Perhaps we should also ask a question: Where do we need you?
Tom found the answer in the usual way. A neighbor’s work schedule has changed and she needs help getting her children to school twice a week. He offered to drive them. It didn’t change his life. But on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, two children were waiting for him. It matters whether he shows up.
How much would change if you disappeared from your daily routine for a week? Who needs adjustment? Who would want to know where you are? Having someone in your life is not quite the same as having a place in their life.
For years, we’ve been asking men if they have anyone they can talk to. Maybe we should ask a different question: Who depends on them? Being cared about does not mean being dependent. Sometimes, the difference between feeling alone and feeling useful is knowing your absence matters.
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Jonathan Alpert is a psychotherapist in New York City and Washington, D.C., and the author ofhealing nation”. Find him on X @JonathanAlpert.